


keep your friends close

by tattletwink



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Electrostimulation, Light Bondage, M/M, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattletwink/pseuds/tattletwink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set in between ground zeroes and phantom pain</p>
<p>usually kaz takes control in these little interludes but ocelot decides he wants to do things a little differently this time around, the results of which are a lot more than what kaz had bargained for.</p>
<p>ocelhira porn because motherbases's best known fuckbuddies need more fic</p>
<p>written for virtruvianking <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep your friends close

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoftRegard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftRegard/gifts).



Kaz shifts uncomfortably, trying to find an angle where the corrugated plastic doesn’t dig into the tender flesh of his wrists. It’s an unlikely end game with his hands bound above him and secured tightly to the headboard. Kaz’s attention was admittedly elsewhere at the moment of his capture, his determination to match Ocelot’s enthusiastic embrace distracting him from the realization that pinning his wrists was not a playful gesture.

He jerks his arms forward a bit, but his wrists remain firmly immobile. Looking up, he perversely finds himself admiring the other man’s practicality. Lighter and less time consuming than rope, zip-ties make the perfect improvised handcuffs for either quickie bondage sessions or impromptu kidnappings. The downside of zip-ties is fairly obvious; you run the risk of coding as a fucking serial killer. 

Speaking of people best avoided, Kaz looks over at Ocelot with renewed displeasure. Mere minutes ago he’d been on him like a cat in heat, but that had ended as abruptly as it started. As soon as Kaz was bound Ocelot withdrew, only the faint tinge of a blush hinting at his former state. The transition happened faster than Kaz liked, Ocelot running a gloved hand through his hair to admire his handiwork before turning to a previously unseen duffle bag.

“You couldn’t spring for rope?” Kaz mutters, voice thick with irritation, finally accepting the fact that there’s no way he’ll be able to leverage enough force to break free. Like it or not, he’s trapped in a damn near soundproofed room on Mother Base at the mercy of a triple agent renowned for his torture techniques. Kaz grits his teeth, annoyed with his own carelessness. He hadn’t thought twice about being half-dragged into bed by a man who had never been the aggressor in their interludes. 

“Sorry, left my silk scarves at home,” Ocelot drawls, “Why? Too tight for you, Miller?” He cants his head to the side to examine the length of Kaz’s body. Kaz is only missing his shirt so there’s nothing overtly indecent in his figure, but he knows enough to feel exposed, his nerves alight. Running a gloved hand along his leg, Ocelot’s eyes flicker up at him with wicked pleasure. “It’s so kind of you to indulge me like this.”

Kaz flashes him a fake smile, seething behind bared teeth. “My pleasure.” 

Because obviously Ocelot hadn’t asked before tying him to the goddamn bed frame. Kaz may have more than a passing interest in bondage, but only as the party in the position of binding rather than being bound himself. The role reversal agitates rather than arouses. Loss of control is already setting him on edge and stinging sensation along his wrists promises evidence that need concealing tomorrow which further sours his mood. 

He’ll be stuck wearing gloves for weeks lest the soldiers get the wrong idea about what he does in his free time.

“Why don’t you come over here,” Kaz coaxes, licking his lips, still horny despite his discomfort. If he’s being perfectly candid, he doesn’t like whatever’s got Ocelot distracted with and the sooner they fucked, the sooner Kaz will be released and the latter is priority over the former (even if not by much). He reaches a foot over to nudge Ocelot’s leg insistently, Ocelot turns to look back at him with a cat-like smirk.

“So demanding,” Ocelot retorts, looking over his shoulder. He approaches the bed brandishing a long black rod in his grip. Kaz doesn’t recognize it at first, that is, until electricity to pulsates across the top. The electric crackling sound is almost deafening at this proximity and his confusion switches to knowledge with jarring speed. 

Instinctively recoiling from Ocelot, his mind is a chorus of expletives as his heels dig into the mattress to push him back as far as he can go.

“What the fuck, Ocelot!” Kaz snarls, pulling his knees almost into his chest. “Get that thing away from me.” Heart beating like a jackrabbit in his chest, it takes everything in Kaz to resist the panic response fighting for his attention. The phrase “well and truly fucked” springs to mind with mirthless fatalism.

“And spoil the fun? I think not.” Ocelot watches him with fascination, twisting the stun baton lackadaisically in his hand. Kaz’s eyes follow the arch of the baton. A different brand than Strangelove’s, it’s about eighteen inches long from base to tip. Thick enough to be used as a small club, it tapers slightly into a thick rubber handle. Kaz guesses only the first ten inches are electrified, but his eyes catch on Ocelot’s thumb and it’s placement next to a small red button. 

“Now lie down.”

The command brooks no arguments, any playfulness in Ocelot’s demeanour dead as his voice becomes as crisp and cold as fallen snow. Kaz hesitates to react, his eyes still fixed on the baton. Ocelot pushes the red button, kicking the stun baton back to life. It’s so loud in the quiet room Kaz flinches at the sound. If he knows anything about the man’s reputation, it’s that he isn’t going to ask twice. 

Despite every impulse in his body telling him otherwise, Kaz reluctantly relaxes into his former position. He growls, unwilling to completely part with his dignity, “I swear to God, Ocelot, if you shock me I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” 

Kaz’s jaw slams shut as the cool metal presses against his chest, a crossing his body like a diagonal promise of violence. Ocelot straddles him easily, the stun baton moving to rest against his Adam’s apple. Under different circumstances, he’d welcome the friction on top of him. Cocking an expectant eyebrow, Ocelot looks down at him with dry amusement, lips quirking with pleasure. His eyes narrow as he gestures with his free hand. 

“No please continue, I do love to hear the threats of a man bound, they’re always so irresistibly futile.” 

“Fuck you,” Kaz spits, managing to not react as the stun baton brushes along his skin. Ocelot takes his time, deliberately guiding the baton along Kaz’s jaw line, studying him for a reaction. Kaz is nothing if not obstinate under duress, beyond the tight clench of his teeth he’s unreadable, somehow managing to contain the tremors of fear from rising to the surface. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Ocelot tuts “I’d choose my words more carefully if I were you.” A rough hand wrenches Kaz’s mouth open as Ocelot positions the tip of the baton centimetres away from his lips. The look of insolence Kaz shoots him is all too familiar.

It reminds him of a man he’d tortured in the basement of the Lubyanka. Meeting his icy gaze head on, the man resisted regardless of the severity of his torture. It wasn’t until Ocelot sliced the tip from his lying tongue that he broke. Almost black under the hanging light, Ocelot had revelled in the blood flooding his mouth and spilling over cracked lips, glistening bright as uncut rubies before drying tacky and reddish-brown down his chin and front.

Less than a week under Ocelot’s blade, he’d talked, the names and dates coming out slow as molasses. The final words formed by his aching, sluggish tongue were of resignation. Ocelot slit his throat and ended his suffering indefinitely.

Kaz makes a muffled sound of resistance as Ocelot slides the baton into his mouth, past his tongue to firmly hit the back of his throat, withdrawing it only to thrust back in a mockery of fellatio. He can’t help but think how much he’d enjoy slowing Kaz’s constantly moving tongue from its nonstop barrage of orders. Forced to weigh the importance of every word during the excruciating healing process, perhaps he’d reconsider just how comfortable he’d become with Ocelot. 

Just one little cut is all it would take. 

The temptation is there, it always is, enticing him closer to damnable action, but Ocelot is well versed in restraint. Although a tantalizing fantasy, he appreciates the skills of man beneath him, despite his arrogance, and would be better served getting his kicks through non-mutilating measures. Perhaps when things went south, as they often do in these arrangements, he’d indulge in the pleasure of tracking the heavy metallic tang of blood up Kaz’s maw, teasing his wounded tongue with his own.

“Hold this for me, won’t you,” Ocelot asks, a superfluous question as Kaz has no say in the matter. The tips of a few fingers balance the unwieldy baton vertical in Kaz’s mouth while his other hand pulls free his scarf, undoing the buttons down his shirt. Lips spread taut around the baton, Kaz tries to acclimate himself to the awkward position, breathing forcefully though his nose. With his shirt and scarf discarded, Ocelot’s bare-chested, clad only in tan military pants and his red gloves.

Leaning over Kaz with interest, he thrusts the stun baton past the point of comfort, his cock twitches at the garbled sounds of protest attempting to wrest their way past the obsidian obstacle. He can see the man’s appeal to John, can imagine him fucking Kaz’s throat with animalistic abandon, a heavy hand threading through golden hair, holding him in place. The visual alone is enough Ocelot salivate. 

“This isn’t so bad is it,” he asks, tugging Kaz’s hair at the root and angling his head for deeper access, “Maybe it’s even a little familiar.”

Kaz can neither voice his objections nor deny his arousal as the stun baton plunges deeper, his erection pressing insistently into Ocelot’s ass as he tries to keep from blacking out. 

Though his scalp aches dully, Kaz’s throat is practically on fire. The stun baton is cold and unrelenting, pressing into the soft tissue of his throat hard enough to bruise. His throat muscles flutter against in the intrusion, but he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t experienced similar during the course of his years with Boss and the MSF. There wasn’t much of a difference between how Big Boss fought and how he fucked, the only exception being the care he’d take of Kaz after the latter.

He can’t stifle the involuntary tears filling in his eyes, sliding down either side of his face as Ocelot leisurely tests exactly how much of the baton he can make disappear into the warm, wet abyss of Kaz’s mouth.

“He must have liked you,” Ocelot laughs darkly, grinding against Kaz slowly. Kaz arches into the contacted, trying to distract himself from the gloved hand wrapped around his throat and his steadily flickering vision. If he’s going to be unconscious in a few minutes he may as well get as much satisfaction as possible.

Just when he’s on the verge of blacking out, Ocelot removes the baton. Kaz gasps for air before coughing wetly, saliva and a few spatters of red blood dotting his front. Pupils dilated, Ocelot leans forward, tracing the blood with his tongue before invading his mouth, kissing him deeply. He’s surprised, but isn’t so distracted that he doesn’t realize that the stun baton has moved to rest against his side, an indelicate reminder.

Kaz has never been one to heed warnings. Fuck Ocelot. He sinks his teeth into the other man’s bottom lip with vigour, almost hard enough to draw blood. Ocelot’s hand tightens across his throat as he jerks back, an appraising pink tongue running across his bottom lip, he doesn’t look surprised, to the contrary, he looks pleased. Kaz doesn’t have enough time to consider the implications before the electrical shock rips through his body.

It’s only a warning pulse, but Kaz can’t help crying out as his muscles painfully contract, volts surging through him and, by extension, Ocelot with vicious speed. He’s been trained against torture techniques, a soldier didn’t make their way through the Japanese Self-Defense Forces without a rudimentary understanding of self preservation should they fall to enemy combatants. Still, his memory is awash under the electrical bath, any techniques sunken beyond reach.

It ends as quickly as it starts, the pulse cutting out at the other man’s whim. Ocelot quivers above him, but he’s substantially less affected. He returns to Kaz’s mouth, kissing him sweetly as if the aforementioned violence had never happened. Twitching and overwhelmed, he benches all ideas about incurring Ocelot’s wrath further. More than that he finds himself acquiescing to Ocelot’s insistent attentions, urging him forward.

“Aren’t you a quick study.” Ocelot murmurs, nipping at his bottom lip with just enough pressure to hurt. Kaz clamps down on the urge to retaliate, to seize the opening for another outburst. Pain and pleasure coalesce as Ocelot becomes sharper in his ministrations, teeth nipping and biting at Kaz with what begins as gentle toying and progresses to something more predatory altogether. The possessive grip on his throat combined with Ocelot’s complete focus on him are too much process.

He’s trying to goad me into a reaction, Kaz thinks hazily. Groaning in frustration, Kaz manages to behave, even as Ocelot frustrates his ever waning willpower. As much as he’s reluctant to admit it, Ocelot’s in complete control of the situation. There’s no point in inviting further violence as much as he yearns to leave his own marks on the man.

Ocelot withdraws once satisfied with Kaz’s swollen mouth. Kaz barely gets a chance to breathe before Ocelot places the sun baton lengthwise in front of his mouth like he’s giving a bone to a dog. The humiliating nature of the gesture takes about three seconds to hit home. Kaz’s temper roils furiously up inside him at his debasement, his teeth clicking around the metal exterior of the baton as Ocelot nudges his jaw up.

“What a delightful image,” Ocelot smirks, regarding him with haughty satisfaction, “Who could’ve known the great Kazuhira Miller would make such a well trained bitch.” The other man bristles and Ocelot could laugh its so predictable. Still, Kaz remains desperate as ever beneath him, he may be furious but there’s no love lost between them. Only the sometimes desperate, sometimes combative trysts spurred by necessity.

Moving between Kaz’s legs, he finishes stripping him naked, relishing the desperate exhale through the other man’s nose as the fabric of his pants drags across the head of his flushed cock. For all of his resistance, Kaz is rock hard from his attentions. If he didn’t have other plans, he’s ride Kaz mercilessly, see how long he’d manage to keep the baton in his mouth.

But he does have other plans, and as such retrieves lubricant from his pocket and messily drips it onto his fingers. Kaz tenses when Ocelot’s fingers move to stretch him, but Ocelot doesn’t have patience for the other man’s ‘virginal’ theatrics, spreading his thighs wide forcefully with heavy hands before dipping back into him. Kaz’s head rocks back with resignation as far as it can go, stun baton pressing against his arms, as Ocelot pushes deeper and deeper into him.

Ocelot takes his time, working Kaz open slowly, appreciating the pornographic tableau before him. 

Chest rising and falling shallowly, Kaz concentrates on his breathing while deft fingers breach him. His jaw aches from clenching the baton, the metal deceptively heavy. Drooling slightly, he’d give anything to have it removed if only to relax his jaw. It’s cumbersome and holding it is becoming a more painful chore by the minute, but more than that it’s an unwanted distraction from what Ocelot’s actually doing, which is purely pleasurable for once.

It’s been years since Kaz has been on the receiving end during sex. In fact, until he’d met Big Boss he’d exclusively topped in his experiences with men. He never thought too much about it, easily attributing it to his personality type. More than anything he likes being in control. There hadn’t been anyone who’d inspired the same loyalty, the same devotion as Big Boss. There’s was a careful intimacy that took root over the course of their long relationship.

And then there was Ocelot.

The rival. 

Kaz was surprised he hadn’t been slapped the first time his hand had found Ocelot’s thigh. He was downright unnerved when Ocelot allowed the increasing infringements, the off color jokes, the leering glances. If Kaz had a playbook, he worked through it cover to cover, seamlessly working suggestions in between business. What’s worse is Ocelot took it all in stride, unimpressed but not uninterested. They were entangled in Kaz’s room after the first two weeks, Ocelot’s mouth hot as sin around his cock, ice blue eyes taunting him.

The plan had been to take proactive measures, to gain traction with the man by any means necessary. However, it became it became increasingly clear that Ocelot wasn’t swayed by romantics, that sex is a distinctively separate realm from confidence. There’s nothing to gain in their frequent interludes. Nothing in terms of intel anyways. That doesn’t stop Kaz from continuing his pursuit under new motivations, sex can always be its own objective in itself.

He can barely contain his relief when Ocelot pulls the baton from his mouth, flexing his aching jaw, the sore muscles contract and constrict with vigour. The other man takes full advantage of his distraction, baton disappearing from sight only to resurface farther south. Kaz feels rather than sees it’s direct location and his elation at having his mouth freed disappears in a heartbeat. There’s a sharp edge to his voice.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Kaz bristles.

“I don’t think you understand how this works,” Ocelot replies blithely, glancing up at him with feline disinterest as he deliberately penetrates him with slicked tip of baton, pushing slowly past the first tight ring of muscle. Kaz loses coherency, his protests overshadowed by physical sensation. Preparations aside, it’s still a considerable girth to take in and he knows Kaz feels every millimetre of cold metal intimately. Ocelot’s own arousal flickers and flames as Kaz’s expression of tension contorts turns to forced accommodation, head tilting back as his breaths become shallow and ragged. 

It’s a slow process, but Ocelot savours every second of it. Kaz’s resistance dissolving into garbled moans as he’s further skewered onto the baton. Ocelot’s fingers itch to slip over the red button just for an instant, just to watch Kaz’s muscles contort in agony, wring a yell fresh from his raw throat. He wondered how long he could keep him before someone came to investigate, how soundproof these rooms could really be. 

It’s something he’d have to investigate in the future. For the time being, Kaz moaning loudly like the slut he is as he pushes the baton in deeper will have to suffice. For all of his macho posturing, this clearly isn’t Kaz’s first rodeo and Ocelot knows from personal experience that men bent over for John, not the other way around. Kaz’s head lolls back against the bed frame, arms twitching with tension.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Kaz growls between movements, voice tight and breathy despite his anger.

“My good will is the only thing keeping this stun baton turned off,” Ocelot states matter-of-factly, twisting his baton sharply, eliciting a gasp from the other man, “Perhaps that’s something to should keep in mind while it’s buried inside of you.”

Ocelot pauses, licking his lips, waiting for Kaz to compose himself before slowly withdrawing the baton, “Or did you want another taste? I’d happily oblige.”

Kaz begins to say something, but the accompanying thrust of the baton obliterates all attempts to formulate his response, his mind immediately latching onto the mixed sensations of pain with the faintest hints of pleasure. The first thrust is jarring, but Ocelot doesn’t waste time falling into a rhythm, gripping the stun baton with a firm hand and thrusting it with controlled emphasis into Kaz.

Soon the pain fuzzes out to pleasure and Kaz finds himself enjoying himself, despite almost everything. He still wants to kill Ocelot, that’s a very high priority on his list, but he also is actually going to get off which is almost always a tight second in his books. Ocelot watches him with what would be disconcerting intensity if Kaz bothered to extricate himself from his own enjoyment.

“Do you want to come?” Ocelot asks, voice low and husky, his own erection painfully unattended. Even his patience is being tested, impaling Kaz on one of his private tools while needy noises escape him elicits an undeniably profane delight. It’s almost enough. There’s a predatory hunger in his gaze, that Kaz recognizes immediately.

Kaz groans, “Yes.”

“By any means necessary?”

Kaz would shoot him a look of hatred if he didn’t need satisfaction this very second. He’s assaulted by the very real desire to break Ocelot’s nose next time he could find a feasible excuse to do so. He wants me to ask for it, the arrogant prick.

“Just fucking do it,” Kaz snaps, over-stimulated and past the point of reasonable thought.

Ocelot’s finger brushes over the red button when the baton’s at just the right angle and for an instant Kaz thinks he’s going to die. His orgasm crashes down on him a split second before the electrical shock forces his muscles tense, agony flooding his limbs anew. Almost blacking out, he yells out in pain with unconscious abandon, aggravating his raw throat further. 

As quickly as it happens, it’s over, the only evidence of it even happening is the mess of come splattered across stomach and the residual pain seizing his body. Kaz twitches with aftershocks, watching as Ocelot undoes his pants. Despite his animosity, he watches him greedily, irritation temporarily shelved in favour of voyeuristic opportunity.

Taking his cock in hand, Ocelot strokes himself to completion. Kaz’s shock contorted body is more than enough fodder to last him for the next few weeks. He spills onto Kaz’s stomach, breath hitching as he finds his climax with ease. Taking pleasure in the disgusted frown Kaz makes at his handiwork, he runs a hand along the other man’s thigh, satisfied. Kaz returns his advances with exhausted petulance, moving his leg away a little bit, but not so much as to remove Ocelot’s hand.

“Now untie me.” 

Ocelot laughs at the order. He may look half devastated, but Ocelot is positively luminous with pleasure though, tucking himself back into his pants and pointedly ignoring Kaz’s demand. He rises to stand, retrieving his shirt from the floor and buttoning it casually.

“Still so charming,” Ocelot purrs, slipping a pocket knife between Kaz’s fingers, “untie yourself.”

Kaz quickly springs into action, sawing the zip tie open, but Ocelot is at the door fully composed by the time he’s free and as ambivalently he may feel towards the man, his own exhaustion takes precedent. He rubs his sore wrists gently, relaxing into the bed, peering up just to catch the Ocelot’s exiting figure.

“Until next time, Miller.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and crit appreciated :)


End file.
